Pressure
by cailin na gealai
Summary: Blaine is under enormous pressure to be the best; he's obsessed with becoming McKinley's valedictorian. The intense drive to always be perfect is slowly driving Blaine to insanity. Will Kurt be there to pick up the pieces? Trigger warnings: non-explicit self-harm, anxiety disorders, panic attacks. Established Klaine.


**A/N: is it ever going to be possible for me to write something that's not just a reflection of me? Ugh. Anyway, go listen to "Autoclave" by the Mountain Goats while you read this. Originally written for the Glee Angst Meme.**

**Warnings: language, some light Klaine. (If Klaine offends you, you might want to get the hell away from this fandom.)**

**TRIGGER WARNINGS: self-harm, anxiety, panic attacks, perfectionism, suicidal thoughts. IF THIS WILL AFFECT YOU ADVERSELY, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!**

* * *

Weighted GPA: 4.43

Class Standing: 6th

Those two numbers make Blaine Anderson want to shoot his brains out. He is _so fucking stupid._ His parents can't forgive him for being gay, but how can they tolerate an idiot for a son? The deal with his parents was that if Blaine wanted to go to a _public school _that was_ two hours away_ with his _boyfriend,_ then Blaine would have to be valedictorian. His grades had to be completely perfect. He had to be perfect.

Oh God he could never be perfect.

His grades were unacceptable. His father would yell, and Blaine would know he was a complete dumbass. He thought longingly about retreating to Dalton, but Sebastian would make his life a living hell. Even his parents thought Dalton was a bad idea after the eye surgery.

When Blaine realized he was breathing too hard and his vision was starting to spin, he pulled off the highway and sat in a gas station parking lot, trying desperately not to have a panic attack.

His fingers itched for his phone so he could text Kurt, but no. That was a bad idea. Kurt knew he gets good grades, but he didn't know about this… pressure. Kurt was preparing for NYADA auditions today anyway and didn't need Blaine intruding.

Blaine sat in the parking lot of the gas station and considered his options. He could go home and tell his parents. He could go buy a razor from the convenience store and slit his wrists. He could drive off into the sunset and play music through the radio and never worry again…

In the end, Blaine pulled back onto the highway and headed home.

* * *

_Of course they had checked the mail. Of-fucking-course._ It was dark when Blaine parked his car in the garage and ran to rifle through the mailbox. _Fuck._

The house was ominously silent, but he could see figures moving in the kitchen window. He was going to have to go in at some point. Quietly he opened the door.

"Blaine," his father said immediately, a white piece of paper clutched in his hand. "What the hell is this?"

* * *

The next quarter, Blaine. Works. Harder.

He sleeps only four or five hours a night, and studies a minimum of five hours for each test. He doesn't eat anymore- he can't stomach it. His hair falls out in clumps when he combs the gel through it.

He's still dapper, still smiling, still ready to help with any problem- but he's falling apart.

Blaine gets almost perfect grades. He obsesses over his grades, checking them online constantly. He realizes he doesn't have anything to talk about but schoolwork, so he mostly stops talking.

It's all worth it. It'll all be fucking worth it.

* * *

He's still in Glee. However much his father yells at him about that _fucking-waste-of-time_, he's still in Glee. He loves Glee. He loves Kurt.

Kurt can be very oblivious, though. After Kurt gets offended for the umpteenth time, saying _Blaine-why- are-you-always-studying?_, Blaine lies and says he has a curfew so he can't be out on school nights.

On weekends, the anxiety doesn't leave. Blaine has lately found it impossible to go anywhere without some school materials. He loves an app for his iPhone that lets him make and review virtual flashcards for all his subjects. He knows his life has become school, but he still has Kurt and he still has Glee.

* * *

Close to exams, Blaine has a bit of a breakdown. He goes straight to the library during lunch. He sits in a corner and studies, crying softly. He _didn't study enough_ and tells himself _you are so fucking stupid I don't know how you pass anything. _Blaine hates Chemistry.

Kurt comes and finds him after a few minutes, coming up behind him and rubbing his shoulders, but Blaine jerks away from his touch. _What on earth is wrong?_ Kurt asks him, but Blaine can't say anything. Kurt gives him a careful hug and kisses his tears. _I hope you'll talk to me._

How can he? How can Blaine tell anyone about this mess in his head? On some level, Blaine knows it's fucked up to consider suicide over a B on a test. _Maybe it's bad that I carry razor blades to school just in case._

The razor blade thing is really flirting with the idea. Blaine cut before he transferred to Dalton, but he was so terrified of Kurt finding out that he stopped. He hasn't cut in five or six months. Sometimes he wants to _so fucking bad_, but he knows that if he started he wouldn't stop until he bled out.

He can't talk to Kurt.

* * *

Things get worse. Kurt invites him on a family skiing trip over a few days during Christmas break. Blaine wants to go more than anything, but _he only has a 92 in AP Physics and if he gets a B he might die._ His mother, who doesn't approve of her husband's pressuring about grades, insists that Blaine should go.

Blaine goes. He keeps his iPhone with him on the trip, drilling AP English Language and Composition terms into his head as Kurt tries to talk to him. Blaine tries to listen, he really does, especially since it's Kurt's senior year and he doesn't know how he's going to hang on without him.

Skiing is fun, but Blaine can't do anything fun anymore without thinking about the fact that he _should be studying, should always be studying._

Later, back at the skiing lodge, as Finn snores across the room, Kurt sneaks into Blaine's bed. Blaine is desperately reading _Hamlet _for his History of Theater course, using his phone as a flashlight.

_Look at this, _Blaine says. _If only the Everlasting had not fix'd his canon against self-slaughter. _Turning to kiss Kurt quickly, he adds, _it's such beautiful poetry._

_ No, _Kurt says,_ it's about killing yourself._

_ It's all in the phrasing,_ says Blaine evasively.

Kurt begins to respond, but Blaine quickly initiates a make-out session to avoid talking any longer. _It's getting so much harder to speak._

* * *

When Blaine hyperventilates in the restroom between classes, he realizes that he isn't really okay. Speaking still isn't coming so easily, so Blaine picks a song. The perfect song to tell Kurt that _he's not okay_. _He's fucking not okay._

He picks Cough Syrup, and he sings it to Kurt, and Kurt hugs him and begins to say something when his phone rings.

Blaine watches as Kurt's face crumples as the call goes on. Wordlessly, Blaine bundles Kurt into his car and drives back to Kurt's house, where Blaine holds Kurt as he cries. Blaine's a bit shell-shocked and secretly jealous- _Karofsky had the guts to try._

_If only the Everlasting had not fix'd his canon against self-slaughter._

* * *

Blaine can't think anymore.

He's adrift, floating in a sea of _facts and memorization, of calculators and grade point averages._ Everything is too much. He's not good enough yet. He could try harder.

His days have a dizzying quality. He drives the interminable trek to McKinley, goes to his classes, goes to Glee, drives home, and studies till two or three in the morning. He sleeps one or two restless hours and gets back at it. _Every fucking day._

Blaine can't tell if anyone's worried about him. Blaine knows how to act- he took real acting classes as a child, nothing like Cooper's bogus pointers. Blaine knows he still looks fine.

He still has Glee. Blaine can endure.

* * *

On his way out to his car in the brisk February wind, Blaine trips over his own feet and slices open his shin just below the knee on a sharp bit of metal.

It feels so fucking good.

Even as Blaine bandages the minor wound and checks his tetanus shot records, he knows he's going back to old demons tonight. He and Kurt hadn't talked in _how long? must be days_ and Blaine feels thick and slow like he's swimming through honey.

_Please-Kurt-don't-get-mad-it-helps-me-focus._

* * *

One afternoon in late April, everything falls apart.

Blaine gets a B on his AP European History test. He's run out of room on his forearm for cuts and the newest costume idea for the next Glee performance involves short sleeves. He's reasonably _certain_ he's been awake for at least seventy-two hours. On top of that, there's a Chemistry test tomorrow and _Blaine is fucking bad at chemistry._ He's freaking out- _he doesn't know anything, not enough time, not enough time- should have skipped Glee_

Then Kurt grabs his arm and hauls him up- _Blaine supposes they're still dating- _and they go to the front of the room. Blaine feels disassociated, _what are we supposed to be doing?_ _Singing, right._

But _the test is tomorrow and then Wednesday is the physics test then Friday the history project is due and oh shit the French project is due too_. Suddenly Blaine can't quite catch his breath. The room is spinning and his heart is going way too fast.

Suddenly everyone is _looking at him. Go away! _he wants to shout but his mouth isn't working, and how did he get on the floor? Nothing makes any sense.

Kurt is leaning over him, his adorable eyebrows scrunched together. _Blaine-are-you-okay?_

Blaine can't remember any more.

* * *

Blaine figures it's been about fifteen minutes when he wakes up in the nurse's office. Kurt is sitting beside the uncomfortable cot, holding his hand. Thankfully, no one else is in the room. Craning his neck, Blaine can see the nurse moving through the thin plastic screen.

Kurt doesn't say anything but he's clearly been crying. Blaine notices his sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows. The scars are on display, mocking him with their redness. _Oh._

_I'm-sorry-Blaine-so-so-sorry-_

Blaine is screaming inside but he's so _tired and he can't fucking take this anymore._

Quietly, Blaine asks, _did everyone see?_

_No, _Kurt replies.

_Kurt?_

_ Yes?_

_ I can't be a failure._

_ You're not a failure._

_ I am. My grades aren't good enough, I haven't taken the ACT enough, I'm not good enough-_

_ Shut up!_ Kurt snaps._ I love you. You're perfect, dammit!_

_ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-_

Kurt curls up beside Blaine on the narrow cot. _I can't lose you, Blaine._

_ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-_

They are nose to nose now, with Blaine's bony back against the cinderblock wall. Oh so quietly he says, _give me the razors._

Blaine doesn't trust himself to speak any longer, so he just nods, digging in his pockets. Silently he hands them over.

_This stops now, Blaine. You are perfect and I won't let you hurt yourself any longer. You can't possibly think offing yourself over grades is the right thing to do._

_ There's nothing wrong with hating yourself over a B, _Blaine whispers.

_Blaine, _Kurt says solemnly, _we're going to get you some help._

* * *

**A/N: School anxiety is pretty difficult to kill- you can't tell someone to just stop caring about their grades. There's a delicate balance that has to be reached.**

**PSA! If you or someone you love are self-harming in any way, go get help! Don't let anyone suffer alone.  
**


End file.
